Rumor Has It
by startraveller776
Summary: Jane's recipe for disaster is simple: 1. Get dragged to a party that she never wanted to go to in the first place. 2. Hide out in the wrong bedroom. Throw in a dash of rumors and voila! The relationship with the school's new resident bad boy that she never wanted. (High School AU)
1. This is How It Started

**Disclaimer:** Yada, yada. I don't own the things. Blah, blah. Entertainment purposes only. Whatever.

**A/N:** This is not technically a multi-chaptered story (despite all the parts). It's a drabble. A very long drabble but a DRABBLE. (Which means writing on the fly without a care for pretty words or decent prose. And research? HA! Okay, maybe I did a little research, but not enough to make this a bonafide fic.)

It all began with this first little drabble prompt by Artemis Day: pistachio, boogie, and flytrap.

**THIS IS A HIGH SCHOOL AU**. (Also a Human AU.)

_Special thanks to Next To Something for coming up with the title of this fic!_

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**Part One**  
_This is How It Started_

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Why had Jane let herself be talked into this?

"Now, where should we start?" Darcy yelled over the earsplitting dance music as she dragged her through a ridiculously huge mansion. Bodies were packed into every nook and cranny, talking, laughing, chasing one another, dancing. All with a red Solo cup in one hand. Jane felt like she had inadvertently walked into one of those stupidly inaccurate teen shows on the CW with pretty people and high fashion.

Apparently the cliché wasn't that fallacious, after all. Not when you had money.

"I think," Darcy continued, "first an illegal beverage, and then we get down and boogie!"

Jane had no intention of doing either, but she let Darcy lead on anyway. It took several wrong turns before they found the kitchen where a group of boys were shouting "Go! Go! Go!" at some jock doing a keg stand.

The next couple of hour were a blur of cheap beer (which Jane didn't drink), dancing with some guy who smelled like pistachios, and ducking out of the way when the football team decided to transform the living-room-turned-dance-floor into a mosh pit.

This was dumb. She didn't want to be here. She wanted lay in bed with her laptop and check out the latest images posted on the Hubble website. Where had Darcy disappeared to? Probably some make-out session with Ian, her not-boyfriend. Ugh.

Jane couldn't honestly say if she'd been looking for her wayward friend or just some quiet place to escape when she stumbled into the only empty room in this gargantuan place. The walls were lined with book shelves, floor to ceiling. If it weren't for the king-sized four-poster bed in the center of the room, she would have thought this was the library. She perused the titles—everything from Shakespeare to college-level science texts to the lifespans of Venus Flytraps to cheap sci-fi paperbacks. She pulled out a copy of _The Evolution of Physics_, whistling when she saw that it was a first edition.

Oh, yeah. She could ride out the party in here. Whoever had this place was her kindred spirit.

"Do you always go through people's things without their consent?"

She squeaked, nearly dropping the book. "I'm sorry. I—" The rest of her apology went dry when her eyes found the other occupant of the room.

Logically, she knew that Loki was Thor's brother—so it would make sense that he would live in the same house—but her brain hadn't really made the connection until this moment. And her brain was less focused on how siblings worked and more interested in the fact that the brooding, arrogant junior who shared her advanced calculus and physics classes was currently topless. Unconsciously, her gaze traveled over his surprisingly muscled chest (he'd always seemed so scrawny next to his brother, despite being nearly the same towering height) down to the smattering of hair peaking over the waistband of his low-slung jeans. "The happy trail" Darcy called it.

Jane swallowed, her entire face growing hot with embarrassment. She wasn't that type of girl! She was a girl who holed up in the library reading the latest science journals rather than the current issue of Cosmo. She didn't think about the kind of stuff that involved half-nude members of the opposite sex. She was only a sophomore, for crying out loud! Barely sixteen!

Loki grinned, and it made her even more uncomfortable. "I've only come to change my shirt," he said, "but if you insist…" He turned the lock on the door, and then began to unbuckle his belt, advancing toward her.

Jane's eyes widened. "No! I'm not—" She backed up against the shelves, desperately trying to remember everything from that self-defense workshop Mrs. Hawkins, the P.E. teacher, made all the girls take. "I'm not here for…_that_."

He stopped two steps from her and laughed. _Laughed_. A total guffaw—doubled over, even. "The look on your face," he said, shaking his head. "I'm going to remember that for years."

Her mouth fell open in disgust. "Oh, my god! You're such an asshole!"

"I've been called worse," he said with a shrug.

Her vicious retort was lost when someone knocked. "Jane?" came Darcy's muffled voice from the other side.

He beat Jane to the door, and unlocking it, opened it just enough to casually lean against the frame. "Looking for your friend?"

"Whoa!" Jane couldn't see Darcy, but she could imagine the girl's expression. "You're actually kinda hot."

Loki smirked. "Shocking, I know. But you've come for Jane." He pushed the door open farther. "She's been keeping me company."

Darcy looked between the pair, lips parting in a gasp as she clearly drew the wrong conclusion. Jane wanted to die. Scratch that. She wanted to have never existed in the first place, so people couldn't spread rumors about that quiet, bookish girl getting it on with Thor Odinson's little brother.

Loki sighed. "It's a pity we were interrupted just when things were getting really fun." He was talking to her now. "I suppose you have to leave now."

Before she could deny that anything like _that_ had been happening in this room, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Jane was not completely inexperienced in the act, but the few times she'd locked lips with a guy, it had been a little sloppy and awkward. This was nothing like that. This was the kind of kiss that they wrote about in romance novels (not that she'd read any—well, more than one), the kind of kiss they captured onscreen in the romantic comedies Darcy made her watch. This was the kind of kiss that sent a bolt of lightning across every nerve-ending in her body.

The kind of kiss that made her almost wish she was _that_ type of girl.

And then it was over.

"I'll see you on Monday, then," he said, stepping back from her.

She nodded dumbly, barely aware of Darcy pulling her out of the room, leading her down the hall, babbling about not knowing that Jane even liked the dude and was the kiss as good as it looked?

"Oh, and Jane!" Loki shouted, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "You can borrow my books anytime you want." He winked at her and shut his door.

Horror washed over her as everyone was sent into a flurry of whispers. She wanted to wave the copy of _The Evolution of Physics_ she'd accidentally walked away with, screaming that she had _literally_ borrowed a book. But nobody would believe her. So, she let Darcy usher her down the stairs and out into the night, all while hating Loki with every bone in her body.

And hating more that a part of her wanted to kiss him again.

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**A/N:** Reviews are terribly welcome. I thrive off of them. If you don't want to review, I still appreciate your readership. :)


	2. Undeserved Consequences

**Disclaimer:** _see the first part_

**A/N:** Prompt for this installment came from ladymargueriteblackeney: key, fur, Nutella

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**Part Two**  
_Undeserved Consequences_

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Jane groaned when her alarm went off on Monday morning. She briefly thought about playing sick, but Mr. O'Connell was assigning projects in Physics today, and she had worked her butt off to earn the right for first pick.

No, she would just have to do the walk of shame (which she totally didn't deserve) and get it over with. She was a virtual nobody in the school's social pecking order, anyway. Who was going to care about her Saturday night exploits—or lack, thereof?

Then again, Loki was Thor's brother. And Thor had shot right to the top of the hierarchy in the three short months since their arrival. Loki was even popular—either by association or because he was a dark, mysterious newcomer with an accent—though he seemed to spurn the attention.

Yeah, there was no hope of her sliding under the radar anytime soon.

She threw her blanket over her head in abject resignation. Not even Nutella on toast was going to make this better.

Nor the text from Darcy she received seconds later. _Sorry. Gotta bail. Mom's taking a therapy day. Laterz! _Jane rolled her . Lewis' idea of "therapy" involved a lot of retail. Jane's best friend was abandoning her in her hour of need for the sake of Tommy Hilfiger and Jimmy Choo. Which also meant riding the bus this morning.

Awesome.

With a sigh, Jane got ready for school. She wished she could wear her baggiest clothes and her hoodie—anything to hide in—but she had to don her stupid school uniform. One of the many sacrifices she made for a premium education at the best private school on the east coast.

Downstairs, she found Uncle Erik in the kitchen, distractedly pouring himself a cup of coffee as he studied a stack of data printouts. "I'll be helping with the upgrade at the planetarium after classes today," he said when she walked in. "I don't know how late I'm going to be, so don't forget your key."

Jane nodded, though she was disappointed. After suffering through the rumor mill at school, she was going to come home to an empty house. Whoever said bad luck always came in threes wasn't lying. She was going to ask about the upgrade when her phone went off.

_It's rude to keep people waiting._

Jane frowned at the message. The number was blocked and she figured someone had misdialed. Until her phone went off again.

_We don't have all day, Jane._

Outside a car horn blared. It sounded deceptively like it was coming from the driveway.

Uncle Erik made a face. "Will you please remind Darcy that honking is frowned upon?"

"But—"

Whoever it was (_not_ Darcy) laid on the horn again with three short bursts.

"Jane." Uncle Erik leveled his "stern professor" look at her, and that was that. No more arguments.

She grabbed her book bag with a huff (because this was seriously not her fault), and yanked the front door open, ready to let the honking culprit have it. She stopped short on the porch steps, mouth hanging open at the car parked out front. It was a cherry red convertible. A really expensive looking cherry red convertible. With Thor in the front seat. And Sif next to him.

"What?" Jane blinked. She thought about going back inside and coming out again. Because this was not happening.

"Get in!"

That was not Thor. That was Loki—the boy who had made himself her mortal enemy. He leaned over the side of the car, holding up his arms in exasperation. Oh, no. No, no, no. This was most definitely _not_ happening. She didn't know what stupid game this was, but she was done. One thousand percent done. (If it was mathematically possible, anyway.)

"No, thanks," she said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and crossing the lawn without a backward glance.

Unfortunately it was not that easy to evade Odinsons and companion as Thor pulled the car up beside the sidewalk, letting it roll slowly to keep pace with her miserably short-legged gait.

"Come on, Jane," Thor said in his deep jovial voice. "We're happy to offer you a ride."

How did he even know her name? They didn't even travel in same circles. Not even close. Like the distance between Earth and Neptune (since Pluto wasn't officially a planet anymore). Unless…

She didn't even want to think about what Loki might have said about her.

She plastered on a smile. "Thanks, but I'm going to ride the bus."

"Oh, quit being stubborn and get in the car," Loki said.

She wanted to smack that stupid patronizing smirk off of his face. "Pass." She sped up—not quite to a jog but almost.

Thor laughed. "Trouble in paradise already, brother?"

Jane rounded on them, cheeks blazing with embarrassment and indignation. "I don't know what he told you—" she jabbed a finger in Loki's direction, "—but there's no paradise! There never was!"

Satisfied that everyone had gotten the message loud and clear, she stalked off toward the bus stop. Thank God they didn't follow. Now she just had to get through the day, and everyone would forget about what _didn't_ happen in Loki's room at the party. Life would go back to normal. The end.

Not the end.

Because Loki was waiting at her locker when she got to school—not just waiting, but leaning his tall frame against it, arms crossed, and smug grin stretching his mouth.

She shoved him out of the way. "Leave me alone."

"Why?" Apparently he found all of this completely hilarious.

She glared at him. "I don't know, maybe because I hate you."

His smile got even wider. "And that's supposed to bother me?"

"No, it bothers me that you won't go away." She swung the locker open, nearly hitting him in the arm. She wished it had. He deserved it.

"You haven't given me a compelling reason to," he said, plucking her physics book out of her locker before she could grab it.

"I hate you. I don't want you around." She tried unsuccessfully to snatch the book from him. "Those aren't compelling reasons to leave me alone?"

He furrowed his brow as if he was giving her question serious consideration. "Apparently not."

She let out a frustrated groan. "I hate you."

"So you keep saying."

"I keep saying it because you're not getting it!" She slammed her locker shut and made another grab for her book which he easily out of her reach. Jerk. "Look, I don't want to do whatever…this…is. I just want to go back to not knowing you and you not knowing me. Saturday night never happened—because it _never happened!_"

He cringed, sucking in a hissing breathe between his teeth with phony regret. "I'm afraid that's not what people are saying."

"Only because of you!" Her outburst drew the attention of the other kids in the corridor, and she felt her entire body turn bright red.

"Careful, Jane." Loki grinned. "You're starting to make a scene. And you're going to make us late." He took her by the elbow and led her toward their first class.

The rest of the morning didn't go any better. Sure, she got her pick of projects (a reproduction of Young's experiment on the dual nature of light), which was ruined by Mr. O'Connell's announcement that they were to work in pairs. Loki immediately volunteered to be her partner.

It wouldn't have been so horrible if he didn't magically appear at the end of every period to walk her to her next class. Every single one. By lunch, when he draped himself on the bench next to her in the quad, Jane had reached her limit.

"You're a bully," she said, scooting away from him. "This is bullying. Or stalking. Or harassment. Or something mean."

He laughed that annoying dry, clipped laugh. "On the contrary, I'm helping your sullied reputation."

Yeah, right. "'On the contrary'…'sullied,'" she mimicked him. "God, who even talks like that?"

He raised a brow. "Like what?"

"Like—I don't know." She gestured wildly. "Like the people in _Pride and Prejudice_."

He rolled his eyes. "Perhaps because I hail from the land where the language is spoken properly, rather than your bastardized American imitation."

"Oh, please. I've seen British television. You're just a snob." She shook her head. "I think you talk all superior-than-thou just to put people off."

"I'm stunned that you've figured me out so easily," he replied in a bored voice. "Since we're on the subject of dissecting secret motivations, I think for all your declarations of hatred, you want me to kiss you again."

Jane's mouth fell open. "I do not!" She did. Or at least, a part of her did. A traitorous part of her which had absolutely no self-preservation. And she was not going to take advice anytime soon from that reckless side of her.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't mousey Jane Foster and her new boy toy."

And apparently Jane's day _could_ get worse. Because being haunted by Loki wasn't bad enough. The Fates had decided that Marcus Jamison, Asshole Supreme, and his cronies needed to be thrown into the mix.

She really should have just stayed home.

"Man," Marcus said, "if I had known you'd be such an easy lay, Foster, I might have gone for you myself." His buddies laughed.

"I doubt you would have succeeded," Loki replied, picking at some lint on his slacks. For a beat, Jane thought he might actually set the record straight.

Marcus snorted. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"Look at yourself." Loki gestured toward the other boy. "You're uneducated, unkempt, and really just a poor excuse for a human being. I doubt you could seduce your way out of a parking ticket, let alone a girl who could outwit you in a game of checkers."

Marcus' face turned a fantastic shade of crimson, and his hands clenched into fists at his side. "Say that again, Odinson."

"Allow me to rephrase, then." Loki rose from the bench. The movement was casual, and yet there was no denying the several inches of extra height he had on all of them. There was also no denying the little thrill building inside of Jane over his willingness to stick up for her.

Even though he was the reason she was in the predicament in the first place.

"I'll use small words," he continued. "You're not smart enough to bed Jane. Jane is not stupid enough to let you try. Now, myself, on the other hand… Well, I think you catch my drift, as you Americans say."

Marcus started to lunge for Loki, but one of his friends held him back. "Come on, man. He's Thor's brother. Don't be an idiot."

The look that came over Loki's face was the scariest thing Jane had ever seen. It was the kind of deranged expression she imagined serial killers wore just before they attacked.

"You're an idiot if you think I need my brother to handle my fights," he growled. Literally growled. Like a vicious wild animal. "Shall we have it out?"

Marcus seemed torn between wanting to beat the crap out of Loki and fear of retribution from Thor—who looked like a champion UFC competitor. Especially with the furry beard he'd begun to sport lately.

"Coward," Loki spat. "Another reason why you would never have her. That and your small dick."

Jane gasped, hands flying to her mouth. (Not that she disagreed with Loki's theory.)

Everything happened so quickly, she couldn't say who threw the first punch. Within seconds, the quad was crowded with students egging on Loki and Marcus. And Marcus' three friends who jumped in when Loki was getting the upper hand.

The fight lasted all of three minutes before two teachers broke it up. Loki blew a kiss at Jane before he was dragged off to the dean's office, laughing through bloodied teeth.

He was a psychopath. He had to be.

All the more reason to have nothing at all to do with him. No matter how good of a kisser he was.

She didn't see him the rest of the day and figured he'd been suspended, if not kicked out of school entirely. The latter would definitely make avoiding him easier. Yep, he'd get expelled and she would eventually forget about what he could do with that expert mouth of his, and then everything would be happy and peppy and bursting with joy again.

It was a beautiful dream. A beautiful short-lived dream.

He was sitting on her doorstep, uniform jacket hanging over his shoulder, when she got off the bus. She really had to stop hoping that things were magically going to go back to the way they'd been before.

Clearly he wasn't going to let them.

"I think this makes officially makes you a stalker," she said, crossing her arms. "I could file a restraining order."

He grinned. "I defended your honor. The least you can offer is to tend to the wounds I suffered on your behalf." He pointed to the split in his upper lip. There were bruises on his knuckles too, but that was about the gist of his injuries.

"You didn't defend my honor." She glowered at him. "If you were defending my honor you would have told everyone that I didn't sleep with you. God, you wouldn't have even started the rumor in the first place!"

She shook her head. "No, you defended your ego. But thanks for playing. Please accept this consolation prize of _getting the hell off my property!_"

He didn't move an inch, but instead gave her his signature smirk. "Pass."

Ugh. He was so…so… _Ugh!_

She stepped around him and unlocked the door with every intention of slamming it in his face. But he was on her heels, halfway over the threshold before she could turn around.

"No," she said, pushing him back out. "There is no way I'm letting you inside—especially when I'm the only one home."

He raised a brow and she could almost see the wicked little wheels turning in his head. "Oh, even better."

"Not even gonna happen." She pressed her hand against his chest to keep him outside. He really was fit beneath that button down. No, Jane. Don't go there. The quota for poor decisions has been filled for the next ten years.

"Killjoy." He pouted. Honest to God, _pouted_. "Nevertheless, we have some important matters to discuss." He pried her hand from him and brushed past her into the house.

She chased after him as he made a beeline for the kitchen—the refrigerator, specifically. "Important matters like you need to get out?"

"There's our science experiment, of course," he said as he pulled out cheese and pastrami and other sandwich fixings, setting them on the island.

"I take it you're not expelled." She sat on one of the stools, giving up the obviously futile idea that she could get him to leave.

"Not even a black mark on my record. Even got a pass to miss the rest of the day for 'medical purposes.'" He grinned. "Knives?"

She pointed to the back of the kitchen. "Do I even want to know how you managed that?"

He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Something about my father's rather generous contribution to the school drying up."

In other words, blackmail. Considering her short association with him (under duress), it wasn't at all surprising. She couldn't tell if he was one of those kids who was arrogant by virtue of being raised wealthy or if he was his own special brand of pretentious jackass. The more relevant question was why had he chosen to unleash his crazy on her? She had a feeling he wouldn't give her a straight answer if she asked.

Once his sandwich was made—cut in half because apparently only plebians must eat a sandwich whole—he rested his hands on the countertop and gave Jane an unsettlingly piercing gaze. "Now, Jane. What are we to do about your poor reputation?"

She sincerely hoped he wasn't implying that they make the rumors true. Because never in a million years. Ever. Even if she was ready to cross that particular milestone (which she wasn't), she certainly wouldn't do it with him. "Let's see," she said, "_we_ could start with _you_ announcing over the PA system at school what really did happen that night. Maybe even a public apology for _sullying_ my good name."

He nodded. "A fair strategy—if unimaginative." He handed her half of the sandwich with a smile that set her teeth on edge. "However, I've a much better plan."

She was so going to regret this.

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading. Drop me a review if you're so inclined. I love them!


	3. Making Deals With the Devil

**Disclaimer:** see first chapter

**A/N:** The word prompts for this installment were provided by clariss2838: Floral shop, platypus, and mints.

For anyone holding your breath for serious interactions with Thor and/or a potential love triangle, you're going to suffocate. The story just isn't that complicated.

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**Part Three**  
_Making Deals With the Devil_

* * *

Jane stared at Loki after he concisely laid out his plan. He was nuts. Completely bonkers. Certifiably bananas.

He gleefully ate his half of the pastrami sandwich while she stewed over his idea. Actually, she was not so much stewing as compiling a list of all the reasons why there was no way on earth she would agree to it.

"Well?" He smiled at her expectantly around a bite.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you were _serious_ about that proposal? Because it sounds more like a really dumb joke."

She didn't know it was possible for someone to manage a flat look while swallowing food, but he did it with finesse. "Jane, Jane, Jane," he chastised. "The way I see it, you have only two options."

"Oh, do go on," she said in the most exaggerated imitation of his accent she could manage.

His flat look got even flatter. "First—" he held up a long finger, "—you can hope that eventually everyone will forget your alleged tryst with me. Though I'm not certain how long that will take—if Marcus' harassment of you today is any indication of how deeply ingrained the rumor has become. I do wonder how things might have turned out had I not been there to intercede on your behalf."

If he was fishing for a thank you, it wasn't going to happen. "And the second option?" she prodded, though she already knew the answer.

"We date for at least six months." He shrugged.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head, "here's my problem with that: I don't like you."

"Irrelevant."

"Totally relevant!" she shot back. "I don't know how it works where you come from, but generally, here in the Colonies, we prefer to date people that we actually like being around."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm proposing a _fake_ relationship—one long enough to make everyone believe you only slept with me because we're in love, or some sentimental shit like it. Unless you don't care that people think you're amenable to one-offs. There's certainly nothing wrong with that."

Jane groaned in frustration. She felt like she was playing an impossible round Wack-a-Mole; every time she smacked down one of his bad ideas, two more popped up. And he was deliberately oblivious to the fact that he was the reason her problems existed in the first place.

"I think we're forgetting the third and most viable option," she said. "Tell the truth."

He took another bite of his sandwich, gave a good show of mulling her proposition over, and then: "No."

She almost leapt over the island and strangled him. Almost. "Why? Because you're worried that it'll hurt your reputation if they found out that you _didn't_ get laid?"

He laughed. She hated his laugh. She hated the lanky, tall British everything about him. "I couldn't care less about my reputation."

No, apparently he cared about hers—more specifically he cared about dragging it through the mud. "Then why?"

He opened his mouth to reply but didn't get a word out before the front door opened. For a frantic heartbeat, Jane thought Uncle Erik had come home early and she had no idea how she was going to explain being home alone with a boy. Not there had ever been any clear rules about that (then again, there'd never been a need before).

"Are you home, Jane?" called Darcy and Jane blew out a sigh of relief. "Because I've been, like, texting you for an hour and you haven't been answering."

"In the kitchen," Loki answered. Dammit, why did he keep doing that? Couldn't he make himself scarce—_just once_—when his presence made people jump to the wrong conclusion? Especially when it took her all weekend to finally convince Darcy that her bedroom encounter with Loki had lasted two whole minutes and didn't involve the meeting of any body parts.

"Oooo," Darcy crooned as she joined them. "Now I see why you haven't texted me back. _Nice_." She gave Jane and Loki a playful grin, batting her eyelashes as she placed her elbows on the countertop. "So, what are we up to?"

"Actually, I was leaving." Loki stepped around the island and brushed his fingers against Jane's cheek. "Think about what I said. I expect an answer when I pick you up tomorrow morning."

He kissed her. Again! The dirty scoundrel! She tried really, really hard not to kiss him back, too. But that was like trying not to eat a Ghirardelli chocolate when someone was rubbing it against your lips. Because his mouth on hers felt so incredibly _right_. Which, of course, was very, very wrong.

Exactly which power in the universe decided that it was okay for such a jerk to be so good at this?

He broke away from her and dug something out of his pocket. "Oh, and Jane darling?" With a wink, he dropped her cell phone in her hand. "You really shouldn't just leave that lying around. You never know who might pick it up."

She scowled at his (admittedly not unpleasant) backside as he sauntered out of her house like exiting royalty. Something had to be done about him—and quick.

She turned back to Darcy and stifled another groan. Her friend wore an expression that said she was about to explode with a hundred questions at once.

"No." Jane waved a hand, cutting her off at the pass. "No, we are not going to talk about it." She started to clean up the mess that Loki had left (this was already becoming a habit).

"Oh, come on!" Darcy protested. "Ian heard from Scarlett that Loki beat up, like, ten guys today for you! And here he is at your house when I showed up, looking like he'd been in a fight and you're _not_ going to tell your best friend anything?"

Jane shoved the mayonnaise a little too hard onto the refrigerator shelf. "It was four boys, and no, we're not."

"Ja-ane!" Darcy whined. "He's kissed you twice now! Right in front of me!"

"How was your day?" Jane asked with the biggest smile she could muster. It might have come out snarly.

"Oh, it was great. We went to the floral shop to pick out arrangements for Mom and Dad's vow renewal ceremony." Darcy rolled her eyes. "And then lunch, more shopping, and what the hell is going on with you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot!?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Jane ran a hand over her face. "I've got a lot of homework to do, and don't you have a research paper on the duck-billed platypus or something?"

"Are you going to eat this?" Darcy pointed to the untouched half of the sandwich and helped herself when Jane shook her head. "The report is on the habitats of beavers, thank you very much. And Ian is editing it for me as we speak."

Jane snorted. "You mean he's writing it for you."

"Hey, I had some input," Darcy said. When Jane pursed her lips, she clarified, "I chose the font."

Jane threw her hands in the air. "Whatever. You know that one day he's going to figure out you're just using him."

"Yeah, probably." Darcy grinned and popped the last of the sandwich in her mouth.

Was everyone in Jane's life a narcissist? Did she have some kind of neon sign welcoming self-absorbed, mildly sociopathic people into her life? Okay, maybe Darcy wasn't _that_ bad—but she was still more than Jane could handle at the moment. Right now, she needed some peace and quiet. An hour or two to analyze her situation with Loki and come up with a way to disentangle herself from it.

She pushed Darcy toward the entryway. "Homework time. Off you go."

Darcy narrowed her eyes. "Fine. But tomorrow you're spilling all the dirty details."

Jane smiled. Not a chance. "Sure."

She sagged against the door after Darcy left. The day was over. She could breathe. Finally.

_I want your love  
and I want your revenge.  
You and me could write a bad romance._

Was that coming from her _phone_? Yes. Yes, it was. Her phone was reminding her to "Say yes to me." She didn't have to guess who "me" was. A quick glance at her calendar showed that he'd programmed this particular alert to go off every waking hour for the next ten years.

He'd also changed her background to a photo of himself wearing that god-awful smirk. And all of her contacts were now Loki Odinson.

Murder didn't seem like an immoral option anymore.

**~oO0Oo~**

In fact, killing him would be a kindness.

That was Jane's first thought the next morning when, after grudgingly dressing for school, she came downstairs to find Loki in her kitchen, chatting up Uncle Erik. She so did not need this.

She was exhausted from staying up late, attempting to come up with a plan of attack that didn't involve the illegal taking of lives. Her choices were woefully limited: accept Loki's proposal, refuse and take her chances with the gossipmongers, or start a counter rumor—one that painted Loki as a huge disappointment in the bedroom. But that meant admitting that something had actually occurred between them, therefore confirming the rumors. Likely, she'd only be seen as being petty.

Double-standards—which, by the way, should _not_ exist in the twenty-first century—really, really sucked.

"Jane," Uncle Erik greeted her happily, apparently unaware that he was in the presence of the devil incarnate. "Your friend here was just telling me about your physics project—the dual nature of light. That's a fantastic experiment."

Loki's smile was polite and innocent. All things he was not. "I'm terribly anxious to get started. Perhaps we might work on it after school today?"

Ha! The only thing he was terribly anxious about was being terrible. She ignored him in favor of rummaging through the fridge for orange juice. That was about all she could stomach at the moment. She must have been projecting her surliness because Uncle Erik frowned when he looked at her.

"Is everything all right, Jane?" he asked as she downed a glass of juice.

"I'm afraid we're having a bit of a row," Loki supplied, beating her to the punch. "Well, a lover's spat, really."

Jane choked on her drink.

"Lover's spat?" Uncle Erik said, thoroughly confused.

She tried to object before Loki could make this worse, but her lungs were still trying to expel her aspirated juice.

"Oh, Jane didn't tell you?" Loki asked, ridiculously pleased with himself. "I'm her boyfriend."

"N—!" was all Jane managed to get out around her hacking cough.

"I'm afraid we really must be going now. Don't want to be late for school." Loki shook her bewildered uncle's hand. "Pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor Selvig. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future."

Loki had her out the door and ushered into the front seat of what she presumed was his car (no cherry red convertible featuring Thor and Sif this morning) before she could catch her breath. And when she did catch her breath—

"I can't believe you just lied to my uncle!" she hissed. "I haven't agreed to anything!"

Loki made a derisive sound. "You will, though. You don't really have a choice."

She glared at him. "Is this how you get all your girlfriends? By entrapment? Extortion?"

The corner of his mouth curved up in a small grin. "You should be nicer to me. I don't have to help you."

"Since you created the problem in the first place," she returned, "I'm pretty sure the laws of human decency say that you do."

By his resounding laughter, he apparently thought she'd just delivered the joke of the century. "Wherever do you get the idea that I'm a decent human being?"

He. Was. _Impossible_.

She fumed in silence for the rest of the drive to school. He was doing a crap job of convincing her to agree to his plan.

This was a really nice car. Not that she wanted to notice—or have any kind of respect for his tastes—but it suited him in the "Bond villain cruising in a classic BMW" way. Sleek. Black. Classy. It was in pristine condition, too.

"Well," he said when they pulled into the parking lot, "shall we put on a show for the benighted masses? Or are you still clinging to your stubborn pride?"

Benighted? Seriously, who talked like that? No seventeen-year-old she knew, that was for sure. (She was going to have to look up that word later.)

Jane closed her eyes, letting out a sigh that came from her toes. For a heartbeat, she considered turning down his no-help-at-all offer, but she recalled yesterday's fiasco with Marcus. Loki'd had a point when he asked how that encounter might have gone had he not been there. The thought unsettled her.

Could pretending to date Loki really be any worse than the last day and a half had been?

"I knew you'd come around." He smirked at her before opening his door.

She scrambled out of the car. "What makes you think I'm going to go along with your plan?"

"By the resignation in your face." He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "Let's get to it."

They headed toward her locker, passing students who craned their necks. Loki seemed completely unaware of the attention they were drawing, but Jane felt every gaze, heard every whisper. She'd never been the center of scrutiny before—not like this. Only grown-ups cared about things like who won the science fair. This was wholly different, and she was pretty sure she didn't like it.

Going from nobody to the talk of the school turned out to be the least of her worries when Loki tried to plant his lips on hers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" She ducked out of the way. "Public displays of affection are supposed to be against school rules."

Loki smiled. "Supposed to be, perhaps, but the rule isn't enforced. We've got to sell this fake relationship." He raised a brow when she scoffed. "I'll make a bargain with you, Jane. If you don't see, this very minute, at least three couples publicly displaying their affections, I will never again kiss you at school. Deal?"

"Fine." She had it in the bag. She never saw anyone making out at school. Ever.

Except right now. Because Lana Steinberg was smooching Eric Talbert across the way. And then there was Jamie What's-Her-Name with Matt Something-or-Other. And then Chrissy Delmonte and some guy Jane didn't know. And then another pair that Jane couldn't make out because they were vacuuming each other's faces so single-mindedly.

Crap. Crapity crap, crap, crap.

Was there some mass text that went out about National Kiss in the School Halls day?

"Four," Loki said with a smug expression. "And now five."

As he gave her another one of his unfairly electrifying kisses, Jane realized they were going to have to lay down some serious ground rules. That, and she needed to invest in some breath mints.

* * *

**A/N:** Loki drives a black BMW 3.0 CSL. Thank you for reading! As always reviews are most welcome! (And yes, there is still more to come.)


	4. Failed Adaptation

**Disclaimer:** _see first chapter_

**A/N:** Prompts for this installment provided by nexttosomething: Avalanche, Eraser, and Hubcap.

* * *

**Part Four**  
_Failed Adaptation_

* * *

"Once a month."

"No."

"Once a week."

"No."

"I'm not doing it once a day."

"And just when you were beginning to be reasonable."

Jane glared at Loki. He deliberately misunderstood the meaning of the words "negotiation" and "compromise." So far in this session of setting the rules for their little ruse, he'd conceded on absolutely nothing. Not even on the location for their discussion. She'd wanted a private place (_not_ her house); he'd insisted that they make a public appearance Hal's Diner—a retro fifties dive decorated with old movie posters and hubcaps. It was the popular afterschool hangout for the, well, popular kids.

"Fine." She rubbed both hands over her face with a groan. "What do you suggest, then? Every hour?"

He grinned as he dipped a fry in his chocolate milkshake. "As often as any other couple in the throes of passion. We've already slept together. Everyone will expect us to be quite demonstrative." He popped the fry into his mouth.

"We have _not_ slept together!" Jane hissed, face growing hot. She had some other choice words for him too, but she reined them in. "Whatever. Only in public. Don't try to pull some 'we've got to practice making out' crap, either."

Loki shrugged. It wasn't exactly an agreement, but he hadn't said no and she was going to run with it.

"Speaking of public affection," he said, looping his long fingers around her arm, "you're too far away." He pulled her around the circular booth until she was flush against his side. "Much better, wouldn't you say?"

"No." It was worse. Because with her limited dating experience, she had no idea that it was possible to have a complete disconnect between her brain and her body. Logically, when the guy she hated (and she _hated_ him) draped his arm across her shoulders and winked at her, she should want to puke rather than feel a hundred butterflies take frenzied flight in her stomach.

Jane always thought girls who went out with bad boys were stupid. But apparently it was a physical condition instead of a lack of anything resembling intelligence. It had to be. She was too smart to be this dumb.

"Oh, my god. Loki Odinson in Hal's. I thought I'd never see the day."

Lorelei—rich, spoiled, gorgeous head cheerleader—paused by their table with her usual entourage of sycophants. (Jane mentally congratulated herself for remembering that word from last semester's AP English class.) The girl completely ignored Jane as she gave Loki a flirtatious flip of her auburn hair.

"I thought this place was too 'pedestrian' for you," she said with a smirk.

Loki raised a brow. "It has its charms."

Lorelei looked at Jane—_really_ looked at her. And then dismissed her with a laugh of disbelief. "If you want to know charm, you should stop playing with little girls and spend time with a real woman."

"Wow." It was Jane's turn to laugh. Because that was so unbelievably shameless and arrogant. And Lorelei had no idea that this "little girl" wished Loki had never played with her in the first place.

"And what does this 'real woman' have to offer me?" Loki asked as though he was seriously entertaining Lorelei's suggestion. That bothered Jane. Not because she was jealous—Ha! Never!—but because after all the hell he'd put her through to coerce her into pretend-dating him, he was going to ditch her for a better proposition on the first day? So not cool.

Lorelei traced her finger up his arm as she licked her bottom lip. (Jane had to admit the girl had game.) "Anything you want."

"Anything I want?" Loki grinned. "Tell me, Jane, would _you_ give me anything I want?"

Jane scoffed at the notion. "You know I wouldn't."

"Huh." He nodded with a pensive expression. "So, I can have either a girl—woman—who is willing to be putty in my hands, or a girl who will make me work for everything. I think the choice is fairly obvious."

Jane's stomach dropped when Lorelei's mouth stretched in smug triumph as Loki took her hand.

"Beautiful Lorelei," he said, "I'm never going to choose you. You're boring, predictable, and no challenge at all."

Lorelei jerked her hand back with a scowl. "And you're always going to be a self-absorbed asshole."

"Oh, yes," Loki agreed with his signature half-crazed smile. "Now, would you be so kind and run along? I'd like to have a proper snog with my girlfriend and your presence is ruining the mood."

Lorelei raised her chin with a huff and walked off, groupies in tow. Jane felt like she'd somehow scored one for the nerds that Lorelei and her ilk constantly mocked. The win was only a little tainted by having to come through Loki. (Again.)

At least fists weren't involved this time.

Thor and Sif slid into the booth across from them seconds later, and Jane was relieved that she would not have to fend off a more intimate public display of affection from Loki.

"I think that one will find a way to repay you for your cruelty, brother," Thor said, nodding in the direction of Lorelei's exit.

"She will certainly try." Loki went back to dipping fries in his shake, utterly unconcerned. "And she will fail."

Thor laughed. It was boisterous, free—so unlike Loki's sinister chuckles. Jane didn't know the fair-haired senior, and she knew very little about Loki, but she could guess that the brothers were as different as night and day in both looks and dispositions.

"So, Jane," Thor said to her, "we meet at last."

She blushed. Who wouldn't? He was so handsome and his smile made her heart do acrobatics. Stop staring, Jane. Sif will kick your ass. Say _something_. "Yeah." Smooth.

Loki gave her a sidelong look, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "You've met her. Go away."

"Don't be like this, Loki." Thor shook his head. "After all your declarations that American girls were inferior in every way, I'd like to know the one who changed your mind."

"Me?" Jane said with a derisive snort. "Yeah, I don't think I've changed anything." Would that she could.

"He's out instead of skulking about his room." Thor gestured toward his brother. "I believe that has something to do with you." At least, Jane was pretty sure that was what he was going to say before Loki's milkshake ended up in his lap.

For his part, Loki was all shock and innocence. "Oh, shit!" He rose to help his brother. "I'm so sorry, brother. My hand slipped and—"

Thor waved him off with a laugh. "I'd better clean this up, else I'll never hear the end of it from Mother. Pleasure to meet you, Jane. I hope to see more of you in the future." He gave her a little bow before heading toward the restrooms.

Sif hung back and glowered at Loki as if she, like Jane, suspected the spill was no accident. "Thor may be blind to your little tricks because he loves you, but I am not."

Loki took a step toward her, eyes narrowing. "Exactly, Sif," he said. "He loves me—his _brother_. You? You're just an interloper. Kindly know your place."

"Someday he's going to figure out what a bastard you really are."

He gave her a sickly sweet smile. "Careful. You wouldn't want me to poison his opinion of you. After all, blood will always be thicker than water."

Sif gave him a final, searing glare before going after Thor.

Jane gaped at Loki, reeling from that biting exchange. "You're the meanest person I've ever met in my entire life. Is there anyone that you're actually genuinely nice to?"

Loki pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a twenty on the table. "My mother." He offered his hand, but she scooted out of the booth without it.

He grabbed her arm when she tried to walk past him, yanked her back to him. "Jane," he said in a low voice, cupping her cheeks. "You are supposed to be enamored with me, not my brother."

He kissed her as if he was trying to melt every bone in her body with a single lip-lock. And he was succeeding. His mouth over hers was an avalanche against her senses. A breathless, heart-palpitating, skin-tingling overload.

She gasped when he broke away from her and whispered against her ear, "I'll thank you to remember it."

It wasn't until she was home later that she realized that they hadn't laid down any ground rules at all.

**~o0O0o~**

In the two classes Jane had with Loki, he'd never sat anywhere near her. She ascribed to the school of thought that the promising students always took the front row—when there was no assigned seating (like in her Physics class)—and Loki preferred to hide in the back of the room plotting and scheming or whatever. And in Calculus, where they were seated by last name, F and O were not close in the alphabet.

Class time was quickly becoming her only reprieve from her fake relationship with Loki. He was always around—taking her to and from school, walking her to every class, lunch, requiring some kind of after school "public show" (usually at Hal's or that hole-in-the-wall coffee shop the cool kids favored—or even the library when she demanded that she get some studying done). And when her blackmailer wasn't hovering over her, she was being grilled by Darcy about her so-called whirlwind romance.

Even things were different with Uncle Erik. He seemed to have finally noticed that she'd made the transition between little girl and young woman, and he wasn't quite sure how to interact with her now when hormones and boobs and boyfriends were involved. It was totally unfair. She'd had the boobs and hormones before this whole fiasco with Loki.

So, for fifty-four minutes seven times a day, she got to be just Jane, the avid student who would likely graduate a year early. She lived for that combined six hours and eighteen minutes.

She should have known that Loki would find a way to ruin the two classes they shared.

Physics wasn't so bad. He'd used the excuse of their project to finagle a seat next to her and mostly left her alone. Mostly. When he didn't… Well, she was getting better at ignoring him. Sort of.

Calculus was a different animal. She had no idea how he'd managed to talk the no-nonsense Mrs. Pipitone into letting him move his desk, but she was now stuck with him seated behind her. And he was a constant distraction. Playing with her hair, murmuring smartass comments under his breath that only she could hear. She was pretty sure he was cheating in that class. There was no way that he could spend the entire period annoying her and have the second highest grade. (She had the highest.)

She didn't think it could get any worse.

She was wrong.

A week and a half into their unholy arrangement, Jane was startled by a white board eraser flying in her direction. She'd been unfolding a note that Loki had dropped onto her desk.

"Planning to share with the rest of the class, Miss Foster?" Mrs. Pipitone asked with a pursed expression.

Every ounce of blood in Jane's body rushed to her face. "No, ma'am." She tried to surreptitiously drop the note into her bag. (Why had she even considered opening it in the first place?)

"Oh, I insist. It must be very important if you're ignoring my lesson." Mrs. Pipitone gestured for Jane to join her.

Jane glanced back at Loki, but of course his face was completely placid. The jerk. She stood on shaky legs and walked to the front of the class, clutching the offending piece of paper so tightly it crumpled in her hand. She had never been in trouble in school. Ever.

"Well, read it to us," Mrs. Pipitone demanded.

Jane opened the note, stomach in her throat as she skimmed Loki's spidery handwriting. "I can't." Her voice cracked. "I can't read this."

"Allow me." Mrs. Pipitone snatched the paper from her and cleared her throat.

"Fairest Jane of my heart,  
How I adore thee.  
Let me count the ways.  
From your amber gaze  
when you scowl so prettily  
to your rosy lips  
which accept mine so easily…"

Jane wanted to lay down and die as the other students snickered. Why? Why did he have to make her life so miserable? What had she ever done to him?

"Mr. Odinson," Mrs. Pipitone said, blessedly choosing not to read the whole terrible thing, "may I assume that you're the author of this bad poetry?"

Loki bore his teeth in a Cheshire-like grin. "Jane is my muse and I can't help but wax eloquent in her presence." More snickering. Which didn't faze him at all.

Mrs. Pipitone shook her head. "In the future, I expect you to keep your declarations of undying affection out of my classroom." The bell rang. "Dismissed."

Jane grabbed her things and scrambled out of the door. Loki chased after her, calling her name, but there was no way she could keep up this stupid pretense anymore. It was one thing to humiliate her in front of the other kids at school—but a _teacher_? No. Not okay. So very _not_ okay.

She wrenched her locker open, and he slammed it shut again. "Do you ever lighten up?" he asked, sounding exasperated. _He_ was exasperated? Oh, no. No, no, no. He did _not_ get to be annoyed with her.

"I don't know!" She rounded on him. "Do you ever take things seriously? Like how you're messing up everything for me!?"

He rolled his eyes. "It was a harmless bit of fun. Why are you getting so worked up?"

Jane stared at him absolutely dumbfounded. He really didn't get it at all. "Harmless? _Harmless?_ I might need a letter of recommendation from Mrs. Pipitone someday and she's going to remember me as the girl who was _canoodling_ with her boyfriend during the lesson!"

Loki crossed his arms and gave her a flat look. "Right. And you having the top marks in class won't come to mind at all."

"You know what? I'm done." She threw her hands in the air. "I'm not playing your twisted little game anymore. Go find someone else to...do this with!" She stalked off toward her history class. Without her textbook. Ugh.

True to character, Loki followed. "Like it or not, Jane," he said as he kept pace with her, "we're in this together."

She wanted to scream. "Why? Why are we in this together? What do you get out of this charade?"

He stepped in front of her and blocked her path when she tried to circumvent him. "You've been a willing participant in this charade."

"You didn't give me a choice!"

He cocked a brow and smiled. "I'm still not giving you a choice." He did something totally unexpected, then. He dropped to his knees and those pale eyes of his welled up with tears. "Please!" he exclaimed. "Please don't break up with me, Jane! I can't live without you!"

Every head in the hallway turned in their direction as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the bottom of her uniform jacket. "You're my everything! I love you! I promise I'll be better!" The performance was Oscar-worthy.

"Stop it," she whispered through her teeth. Everybody was staring, whispering, pointing.

"Only if you say you'll keep to our arrangement," he murmured back before he wailed her name in a garbled voice.

"Okay. Okay!" she hissed. "Just make it stop."

"Kiss me."

"What? No!"

"We're making up after a big fight," he said. "You have to kiss me. Our audience is waiting."

Jane groaned. She'd never initiated a single smooch with him before, and she didn't want to start now. "I really hate you."

He grinned. "I really don't care."

Oh, she was going to give him the kiss of the century and wipe the egotistical expression right off of his pretty face! She tipped his chin up and pressed her lips against his, pouring every pent-up fantasy she'd had in her short life into it. Which, of course, was not the smartest idea she'd ever come up with. Because unlike her during their previous make out sessions, he didn't put up a resistance. This, she realized, was what "synergistic" meant.

She was vaguely aware of the crowd cheering them on.

It took a feat of willpower, but she managed to break off the kiss. She was a more than a little proud of the dazed look he gave her (even if her own legs had turned gelatinous). Turnabout was fair play.

"I'll see you after class, babe," she said, patting his head before stepping around him.

"Damn," he muttered behind her.

For the first time since this nightmare began, she smiled. A real, bonafide _smile_.

* * *

**A/N:** Fans of Agents of SHIELD might recognize the name Lorelei. Yes, that was a reference to the escaped Asgardian prisoner in the episode "Yes Men."

Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcome! :)


	5. Late Night Shenanigans

**Disclaimer:** _see first chapter_

**A/N: **Prompt for this chapter came anonymously on Tumblr: Five o'clock shadow

Just so you know, my teenage daughters (16 & 14) are my beta readers for this story (both of whom don't read fanfiction). If they laugh, I know I've done okay.

Also, I'm a sucker for 90's teen movies. That obsession has heavily influenced this tale.

**Theme song:** Work by Jimmy Eat World

* * *

**Part Five**  
_Late Night Shenanigans_

* * *

_Are you awake?_

Jane stared bleary-eyed at the text message. The number was blocked which, of course, meant it was from Loki. She sighed as she scrolled through the eight other messages.

_I can't sleep._

_I'm bored._

_I'm coming over._

_Wake up._

_I'm going to start throwing rocks at your window._

_As soon as I figure out which one it is._

_Why do all the windows look the same?_

_WAKE UP ALREADY_

Jane glanced at the clock. 2:17 am. She was going to have to add middle-of-the-night texting to the growing list of Things Loki is Not Allowed to Do. That and showing up at her house in the wee hours of the morning. And, for good measure, she might as well throw in the demand that he unblock his number so that she could actually _respond_ to him.

She thought about ignoring him—he would go away eventually—but she might as well lay down the law right now before he kept her awake with a dozen more texts.

The dynamics had changed between them after that scene he made at school. (Had it really been more than a month since then?) She realized something that day: he wanted this pretend relationship more than she did. And he was willing to take on the role of love-sick boyfriend to keep up the ruse.

Exactly who had the power in this thing? Besmirched reputation aside, it was her. So totally _her_.

That lovely little revelation made possible for her to finally set boundaries. Only a few, though. Because Loki was still Loki, after all.

_Jane_

_JaNe_

_JANE_

_JANEJANEJANEJANEJANE_

With a groan of irritation, she turned on her bedside lamp and began digging through her wardrobe for whatever was clean and warm. Her phone went off every few seconds, but she didn't bother to read the texts. She could guess what they said.

Sneaking out of the house was a new thing for Jane. She'd had a lot of new experiences since Loki inserted himself into her life and she'd enjoyed precisely zero of them. All right, maybe one. But just that _one_. And she didn't like that she enjoyed it, so it didn't count.

What counted right now was that despite going up and down these stairs for years with nary a sound, they creaked. Loudly. Every. Single. Step. It was as if the house wanted her to get caught. She could imagine how the conversation would go with a stern-faced, bedraggled Uncle Erik.

"Um, I'm going outside for just a minute to tell my boyfriend—and I use that term loosely—to stop texting me in the middle of the night, okay? Okay."

Yeah, that would go over _really_ well.

She sighed with relief when she made it to the front door without a commotion. And then she sucked in another breath, ready to unleash the tirade she had prepared on the way outside—an eloquent rant with phrases Loki would understand like "breach of propriety" and "decorum" and "begone, foul pest." She'd been upping her vocabulary game since they started dating—_fake_ dating. Because she hated that he sounded smarter, even though she had the better GPA.

Loki's BMW was parked by the curb and he was leaning against it, fiddling with his phone. (Probably texting her again.) He glanced up as she made a beeline for him with accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

"Took you long enough." He pocketed his phone and had the passenger door open before she could get a word out. "Let's go."

"First of all," she said, crossing her arms, "don't ever text me in the middle of the night again—especially on a school night."

"Yes, yes." He nodded, though she was pretty sure he wasn't actually agreeing with her. "Can we finish this in the car before you wake your neighbors? You get rather shrill when you're angry."

"I do not get shrill!" she screeched and then slapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks on fire.

"Not shrill at all." Loki smirked and waved a hand toward the vehicle. "Well?"

She glared. She huffed. But she ultimately got in. Being able to yell at him properly was so much more satisfying, anyway.

It didn't occur to her that he would actually drive away with her—not until he turned the engine over and put the car into gear.

"What are you doing?" She hastily fastened her seatbelt. "Where are you taking me?" If Uncle Erik woke up and figured out she was gone, God have mercy on her soul.

"It's a surprise." He looked at her and winked. "Don't worry, I'll have you home and tucked into your bed long before dawn."

Jane opened her mouth to demand that he take her back home this instant, but then thought better of it. Her reluctant association with him had taught her to pick her battles. Sometimes if she held out long enough, she'd win whatever disagreement they were having. But this time? When he was in the driver's seat and had control over their destination? She was probably not going to outmatch his stubbornness.

It was weird how they'd developed this kind of symbiotic…thing. She didn't know what to call it. They certainly weren't a couple for real—despite how affectionate they were when they had an audience. And she definitely wouldn't call him a friend, not really. Maybe partners in crime? Two people who had come together for mutually beneficial purposes. (Though Loki still hadn't told her what he was getting out of the whole arrangement. He wasn't hurting for female attention; Jane had seen the way the other girls at school looked at him.)

What was even weirder was that she kinda didn't hate him anymore—not completely. He was infuriating, bullheaded, self-centered, rude, spoiled, and a total trouble-maker, but he wasn't really _that_ bad. Right?

Loki broke the companionable silence. "You're not going to let me have it?"

She frowned at him. "What?"

"That little diatribe you had ready for me when you came out of the house," he explained. "You had it all outlined with bullet points, I'm sure of it."

"Oh, that." She didn't feel quite so irate now. "Just don't do this again, okay?"

"All right." He smiled. "I won't do it again until next time."

She laughed in spite of herself. That was another new thing: laughing when he was being—what was that word again?—incorrigible. "Stop it. I'm being serious."

"As am I." His smile widened. "You don't want me to make a promise I have no idea if I can keep, do you?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm turning my phone off at night."

He answered with an indifferent shrug.

"And you have to unblock your number," she added.

"So _you_ can block it?" He raised a brow. "I think not."

She glowered at him. Did he think everyone was as scheming as he was? Okay, to be fair, she might have done that a couple of weeks ago. He wasn't totally incorrect in that assumption.

He parked in a quiet neighborhood, and Jane couldn't begin to fathom what they were doing here. Meeting someone else? That would be a surprise. She'd never seen him with anyone resembling a friend. He pulled a black duffle bag out of the back seat and stepped out of the car.

"Let's go," he said when she didn't move.

"I'm not helping you break into a house." She gave a significant glance to the mysterious bag. Fake relationship she could do. Real felony was out of the question.

He laughed. "You're determined to think the worst of me. I'd be hurt if I actually cared." He shook his head. "We're not breaking into anything. We're merely partaking in a time-honored tradition."

He unzipped the bag, revealing rolls of toilet paper. "Just a harmless bit of mischief. Coming?"

She decided to join him despite the nervous palpitations in her chest. She'd never participated in this rite of passage, and she was kind of excited. Mostly scared, but kind of excited.

"Who are you targeting?" she whispered as she followed him down the street. "Or are you randomly choosing a place?"

"You'll see." He gave her a little half-smile as he led her around the corner.

Jane's mouth fell open when they stopped in front of a familiar federal-style mansion. "Oh, my god. No."

"Oh, most definitely yes." Loki's little half-smile stretched into a full-on diabolical grin. "I don't have any adversaries to speak of—not yet. But you do."

"How did you even—?" She didn't finish the question. She knew. _Darcy_.

"Your friend is a plethora of information." He glanced at Jane. "Don't tell me you haven't thought of getting revenge."

Oh, she had. She had imagined every day for more than a year what it would be like to get back at Jeremy Holmes—the first boy she thought herself in love with. Her cheeks burned even now at the memory of how he'd led her to believe he reciprocated her affections—even invited her over for a weekend barbeque with his family.

The following Monday, he announced to the whole school that he'd never go out with her because she was too flat-chested.

That was in seventh grade. Wasn't she above petty grudges now?

No. Not at all.

"Let's do this." She grabbed one of the rolls out of Loki's bag and chucked it at the large oak tree in the front yard.

Toilet papering was clearly not as easy as people made it look. The roll did not unravel like it was supposed to as it soared through the air, but stayed together when it hit the tree trunk with a soft thump. Loki doubled over with laughter for at least five minutes. (Maybe not quite that long—but it sure felt like it.) Irritated, she retrieved the defiant toilet paper and threw it at him. Which only made him laugh harder, of course

"You really have never done this before, have you?" he asked when he caught his breath.

"I'm too busy studying to commit misdemeanors on a regular basis!" she hissed back.

"I like this," he said, picking the roll up off the ground. "I get to pop your toilet papering cherry." He waggled his brows.

She snorted. "You're picking up some American dialect."

"Only the more colorful idioms."

He crouched behind her—she forgot how tall he was sometimes—and held out the roll in the palm of his hand. Her stomach fluttered when he spoke against her ear in a low voice. "First, you unwind a bit and hold the end. Go on."

She did as he asked, far too aware of his closeness. More aware than she'd ever been in the entirety of their association.

"Now throw it underhanded, letting it roll off of your fingertips," he instructed. "Aim high—higher than you think."

She drew her hand back and tossed the roll up into the tree, biting back a squeal of delight when it went over the branch like a streamer. "I did it!" Before her brain caught up with her body, she was knocking him over with a hug.

Immediately she scrambled off of him, face hot with embarrassment. "Thanks."

He gave her a funny smile that sent the flurries in her stomach into a tizzy. "Of course."

Fortunately this sudden weirdness between them was fleeting, only lasting as long as it took to grab more ammo from the duffle bag to complete their act of vandalism. Jane had a couple of misfires before she really got the hang of throwing the rolls. She was glad that Loki was too busy with his own to make fun of her.

They tp-ed the tree and the shrubs in the yard. Loki made a veil of toilet paper over the front door, using some tape he had in the bag. Jane was too scared to get that close to the house, but she giggled as she watched him. He laughed too, even though he kept shushing her.

"It's too bad I won't get to see the look on his face tomorrow morning," she said as they stood on the sidewalk, admiring their handiwork.

Loki looked down at her with a canted brow. "We'll just have to use our imaginations."

There was that funny smile again. One that made him seem almost human rather than a creature built entirely out of sarcasm and nasty pranks. She grinned back at him. This was weird, but a good kind of weird—at least, she _thought_ it was good. She didn't want to strangle him. That was good, right?

The exterior lights flicked on abruptly, stopping Jane's heart. Cursing under his breath, Loki grabbed her hand and shot off like a bat out of hell. She could barely keep up with his ridiculously long legs, and she was pretty sure their forward momentum kept her from performing a spectacular face-plant.

She laughed, more than a little breathless, when they were safely in the car and making their getaway. "That was—"

"Fun?" he finished with a smirk. "And here I thought the universe would implode if Jane Foster ever did anything exciting. Odd how that didn't happen."

She punched him in the arm, though she was grinning. "Be nice, you jerk."

"Nice is boring."

She watched him as he drove, pale face illuminated by the moonlight. He really was very handsome—not that she hadn't noticed before. It was like when all the girls were swooning over Zac Efron a few years ago, and while Jane accepted that the actor was very attractive in a clinical sense, looking at him didn't turn her knees to jello.

That was how she felt about Loki for the most part—torrid public make-out sessions aside. Until now.

It was as if she was seeing him for the first time as her gaze followed the sharp lines of his profile. He was all angles, no curves. Geometric perfection. She blushed at the revelation.

This new development was going to be _really_ inconvenient.

Giving into the compulsion, she brushed her fingers across the sandpapery stubble dusting his cheek and chin. (He _was_ her boyfriend—fake or not—so it was perfectly okay to touch him. Totally. Darcy would agree.) "I've never seen you with a five o'clock shadow," she said. "I didn't know you could grow a beard."

He laced his fingers with hers as he drew her hand down to the gear shift. "Unlike my brother, I have no desire to resemble a half-witted mountain man." His words had a hint of bitterness to them, and she frowned.

"You say that as if being anything like Thor would be horrible." She shook her head in disbelief. "He seems like a good guy."

Loki laughed, but it was hollow. "The best, in fact—or so I'm often told. Exactly the sort of young man I should aspire to be." He pitched his voice to a falsetto. "'Loki, why can't you be more like your brother?' 'Thor would never do that.' 'Your brother is so amazing, can you give me his number?' 'Thor is practically perfect in every way. What happened to you, Loki?'"

"Wow." She couldn't begin to imagine what that would feel like—to have an older sibling everyone loved. "I'm sorry."

"Save it." He parked and turned off the engine. "You're no different from the rest of them. I've seen the way you look at him—like he hung the very stars." He stepped out of the car and slammed the door before she could formulate a response.

She had a prickly sort of feeling in her chest, one that made it hurt to breathe, and she didn't know how to make it go away.

She climbed out of the car, surprised to find that they were not at her house but at The Butte—aka Kissing Point, aka Make-Out Mountain and other, seedier nicknames. How did he even know about this place? Actually, nevermind. She didn't want to know the answer to that question.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, hugging herself. In the excitement of tp-ing Jeremy's house, she hadn't noticed how cold it was. Now she wished she'd worn a warmer coat.

"Forgive me for not wanting to go home just yet," Loki answered, tossing rock over the drop.

"Is it that bad?" When he glared at her, she added, "I mean, I know it sucks to be compared to Thor, but you still have it good."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. Why should I ever be unhappy when my father has so much money? Because everything I could possibly want can be bought, is that it?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I—"

He cut her off with the wave of his hand. "Don't pretend to know what my life is like, Jane."

"I'm not!" Ugh, he was so infuriating! She inhaled, trying to rein her temper in. It wasn't working. "You have a brother who loves you. You still have your parents. And pisses me off that you take it for granted. I don't have that. I'm never going to have it. So, you can take your little Emo pity party and stick it. Because I don't feel sorry for you. Get over yourself."

He stared at her for several excruciatingly silent moments before clapping. "Bravo," he said. "Blunt and to the point. I might have even cried—if I had a heart."

She let out an exasperated laugh. "You're such a liar!"

"Usually," he admitted with that stupid (fake) smug expression of his. "But I'll indulge you. Which lie specifically are you referring to?"

"That you don't care!" she shot back. "You care. You care a lot or else it wouldn't bother you what I think of your brother."

"Don't flatter yourself," he returned with disdain.

"Whatever." He could deny it until he was blue in the face, but she had him figured out. At least, a little more than before. He may not _like_ like her, but he definitely didn't want to be considered second-best to Thor. Not in her eyes, or anyone else's.

He _so_ cared.

She didn't know what that meant, but it felt important.

"You're cold." Loki was looking at her with a crease in his brow.

She thought he was calling her unkind in his uppity British jargon, but then realized he was talking about her chattering teeth. Her lips were probably blue, too. "Yes."

He closed the distance between them, unzipping his jacket. But instead of taking it off and giving it to her, he pulled her flush against his chest and enveloped her with his coat. It was deliciously toasty inside.

"Better?" he asked.

She made a noise of agreement. He smelled really good. She would have to find out what laundry detergent his mom used. "It's getting late."

He chuckled. "Because it wasn't late when I came for you."

She started to argue but it turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. Her body wasn't made to handle so much intensified excitement in such a short period of time.

"And that's my cue to take you home." He sighed. "You're a wuss."

"More American lingo? Careful, you might become one of the…benighted masses," she said with another yawn as he ushered her back into the car.

"I've been working on my southern twang," he returned in an authentic-sounding drawl before closing her door.

She laughed.

After he deposited her at home, she received a text—this time from an _un_blocked number.

_I'm thinking either Marcus or Lorelei next time._

As Loki as ever. She smiled as she sent him a reply.

_You're impossible._

_You like it. ;)_

Maybe she did a little. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, Jeremy Holmes is a real person. Yes, he dashed my sixth grade heart by pretending to like me and then having a good laugh over getting my hopes up. (But it was another boy who, a couple years later, announced to the whole middle school that I was too flat-chested for him to ever consider going out with me—I was a late bloomer.)

This is the danger of being rude to a writer. We will get our revenge in fiction and fiction is forever. [insert maniacal laughter here]

Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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